


The Down Side of Me

by NeonAnon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Extortion, F/F, Growing Up, Growing Up Together, Intimidation, Needles, Omnic Crisis, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Recall, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Pre-Recall, Pre-Talon Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Slow Burn, Sparring, Younger Years, critical role - Freeform, pet rock, self expirimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-01-08 16:12:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12257754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonAnon/pseuds/NeonAnon
Summary: Updated Summary:Angela is made an orphan by the Omnic Crisis. Her experiences drive her to new, innovative heights in her mission to prevent more pain from existing in the world as she possibly can.Fareeha is an army brat, living with her mother at Overwatch's Swiss Headquarters in Zürich.This is the story of the two growing up together, and eventually living in the shadow of Overwatch, before the Recall eventually occurs.





	1. Why the World Wags

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note – Short Version: While I appreciate creative feedback, and I want people to enjoy this, I'm writing this as a sort of self-therapy piece to get some things out of my head. 
> 
>  
> 
> Author’s Note – Long Version:  
> Feel free to skip this disclosure of probably over-personal issue sharing.  
> Haven't really written anything in years.  
> Going through a divorce, unsure what I want, unsure if I want anything, I guess just confused in general, and dealing with the whole mom being dead thing (happened a while ago, so it’s not a recent thing, but it’s something I can’t seem to shake. Writing about Angela’s mom has kind of allowed me to project some of my issues, I suppose. Though, robots were not involved in my backstory.) So, writing this fic is both fun and therapeutic.  
> Alright, I'm done talking, now. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I can't do smut. Just plain can't. At least, not yet. Don't know if I'll ever be able to. *shrug*

Summary: Angela’s Childhood, Omnic Crisis and finding her calling.  
Warning: Gore and Death.

It was a week before they were found. Her father’s blood painted the wall of her bedroom, dried to a crusty, drab brown across the white paint like macabre abstract art. What remained of him lay in a crumpled pile against the wall next to her toy chest. A light breeze blew in through the gaping hole that used to be the ceiling and windows, ruffling his light brown hair gently. Her mother’s body lay against the door, blonde hair splattered stained with the gore of herself and her mate, a futile flesh barricade against unstoppable metal. The Bastion units hadn’t needed to enter the sanctity of her home for it to be destroyed. Defiled. Bullets passed through and demolished walls and windows just fine. A horizontal line of destruction cutting the outside wall in half, with equally aligned holes on the far walls and door a testament to the false security the home had afforded.

Angela lay huddled under her bed, stiff and listless. She stared at her parents, unmoving. She would later find herself remembering the static staccato of seemingly endless bullets and the oppressive grinding of caterpillar treads along roads just out of sight, the horde of Bastions tearing through her village just beyond the shattered windows. Later in life she would find herself unable to recall her father’s face without the gaping hole through his temple, the left lens of his dark horn-rimmed glasses shattered. As the years passed she would find her own face a frequent reminder of her broken mother. She would look in mirrors and see her looking back at her, imagining a line of bullet holes strewn across her own chest. Those same eyes gazed at, unblinking and steadfast even after her last heartbeat, watching her in her hiding place under her bed in her shattered childhood home.

It was a week of nothing but watching. The sun would set, casting the room into darkness, the calming sounds of night life at odds with what she knew lay in the shadows around her. The sun would rise, its rays revealing the garish sights still around her, every day incrementally more soul-numbing than the last as her parents slowly decomposed before her. The sounds of songbirds a clashing comfort in this den of nightmare fuel. Kept company only by her pet rock, Ritter the Strong, plush toys, dolls, and action figures she had hid under her bed in her last attempt to “clean” her room and by the motionless bodies of what used to be her only family.

The pervasive, sickly sweet smell of death would stick with her until the end of her days. The memory of it flashing through her mind on many future endeavors and missions yet to be conceived.

It was a week of waiting. It was a week of torture. It was a week that taught her that loss was unfair. It was harsh, cruel, and indiscriminate in its choice of victims. It was a pain she wished on nobody.

On the night of the seventh sunset, she lay unmoved. Her belly an ache that slowly subsided to a dull throb, her mouth dry, her eyes a pain to try and force open. Her consciousness floating in and out, jerking awake from her fitful bouts of sleep at the smallest noise or vibration. Waiting for the Omnics to return and finish her off. To finish taking everything from her.

It wasn’t the return of the invading machines that woke her from her stupor, but voices. The sounds of movement beyond her bedroom door, voices, the scuffing of boots, the scratching of furniture hardwood floors would have driven her further under her bed if she could muster the strength to move. Clutching Ritter, her faithful knight to the end, in two sweaty, dried blood covered little hands, she waited. A scratching sound just beyond her mother’s body had her staring at the bullet riddled door, her blue eyes painfully dry. Her floral pink shirt covered in little hand prints from Angela trying to staunch her mother’s wounds. A sniffly whuffing sound from the crack under the door had her eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Barking began to ensue, followed by the thumping of many booted feet. The doorknob turned, her mother’s body refusing to move, stiffly guarding her only child even in death. She would later learn the exact science behind rigor mortis; the hardening of the muscles that sets in between two and six hours post mortem, beginning with the eyelids, neck and jaw, with the remaining muscles of the body affected following suit.

In the moment, she watched wide eyed as her mother was shoved forward, toppling over rigidly and landing with a dull wet thud. Booted feet pause, allowing a flash of fur to dart past them. She hears voices, but can’t seem to bring herself to comprehend what is being said. They could be speaking Swiss-German or Greek for all she could tell. Before she knows it, there is a rush of movement blocking the booted feet from view and she is face to face with the warmest brown eyes she has ever seen, surrounded by dark fur. The dog’s long angular muzzle and near black fur hint at Alsatian and black Labrador breeding. Gazing into those globes the color of rich hot chocolate, even for only a breath of time, Angela felt for the first time in days a sense of security. After a moment, the face of the dog retreats, tail wagging madly, as it begins barking and scratching at the floor. A pair of the boots separates from the group now entering the room, circles of light scanning the room with flashlights or lanterns. The feet approach the bed. A hand appears, palm lying flat on the floor before Angela is blinded, throwing her forearms in front of her face, Ritter clutched tightly in her right fist, burrowing her face in the crooks of her arms.

The events that follow are a blur. She is somehow gently, carefully extracted from beneath the piece of furniture.

She is wrapped in a thick woolen blanket, given water and a meal bar. She watches as her parents’ bodies are carried from the home and deposited on the remnants of their front lawn, now churned into clumps of dirt by tire treads. The rescue workers cover them in tarps, blocking them from view and from the elements. Angela strode forward hesitantly, kneeling on the cold earth between the two tarp covered beings. No tears come as she collapses, chest to her thighs, arms tucked in close.

Angela remembers being carried again and buckled into a hover Humvee, bundled back up in the warm blanket she had dropped without realizing it, Ritter the Strong clutched in one hand while her other hand is buried in the thick, soft black fur of the Search and Rescue dog. The dog, whose name she never learns but still she never forgets, would every few minutes turn and lick her on the cheek, meet her eyes, and bump her on the chin with its wet nose.

___________________________________________________

 

With her parents gone, and no living close relatives or others specified to care for her in her parents’ last will and testaments, Angela is thrust into the care of the Swiss government like all the other orphans this war with the Omnics has generated. With the influx of children into the system, Angela is simply one of many transported from the war-torn fringes of Switzerland to live in the capital city of Zürich. Without enough foster parents to care for the flood of the nation’s bereaved youth the city devoted resources into establishing massive, crowded, youth housing institutions. Simply one of many, and without much room to breathe at her new place of residence, Angela spends as much time away from her assigned housing complex as her currently appointed legal guardian allows, and instead prolongs her stays at her designated public school.

Angela has her nose deep in a book when she is startled by a tap on her shoulder. Her messy ponytail bobs as she turns to see who had interrupted her reading. Without responding verbally, she stares up at the school librarian, Frau Kinsinger. “Hello Angela.” She greets the youngster. “Mind if I ask what are you reading?”

Wordlessly Angela angles the cover of the heavy tome so that the librarian could read it. The look of surprise on the woman’s face would have been amusing if Angela could feel amusement. If her chest didn't constantly feel like one of those supposed witches during the trials in the Americas she read about. As though stone after stone were being laid on a board across her ribs, waiting to see how many it took for her body to break and prove her innocence. “’The Once and Future King’ by T.H.White?” The woman asked, impressed. “How old are you, young one?”

“I’ll be eight soon.” Angela answered reluctantly when the woman waited long enough for an answer that the young girl realized silence wasn’t going to drive her off. “My grandmother was a retired school teacher and liked teaching me phonics. I liked learning from her.” She explained with a halfhearted shrug.

Frau Kinsinger sat in the comfortable chair next to Angela’s equally comfy seat, sinking into its cushion with a smile. “Do you have any favorite parts?” The woman asked, indicating the novel with a nod of her head. 

Angela looked up from the book with a huff, having tried to go back to reading. She silently thought on woman’s question, flipping back to a page that she remembered had caught her attention and had blasphemously ear marked. In a small voice, the girl read the quote aloud.

_“The best thing for being sad,” replied Merlyn, beginning to puff and blow, “is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder in your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewer of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then – to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it.”_

The Librarian’s face held some expression that Angela didn’t know how to interpret, so she just returned the woman’s hazel gaze. The child noted that the woman’s mouse brown hair had some flyways escaping her otherwise immaculate bun. “Is there something about the world’s wagging that you wish to learn, young one?” Kinsinger asked. Angela squinted back down at the words that had struck a chord in her.

“I think… I’d like to learn how to stop the world’s pain.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper. “What do I have to learn to do that?” She asked, unsure of herself or her question.

“The whole world’s pain?” The woman asked, lips quirking at the child’s small nod. Kinsinger pondered, lips pressed together in thought. “Well, I suppose you could study public services… Fighting fires, joining the military, or emergency medical personnel.”

“Medical personnel?” Angela asked tentatively.

“Yes. They’re the people that, when there are injuries, they are called upon to help heal those hurt and get them to safety. Also, if you want to stop the world’s pain, that wouldn’t be a bad place to start.” She explained to the student. “For example, Doctors Without Borders is a group that travels around, helping the people of third world countries and war torn regions.”

War torn regions. The sounds of bullets ricocheting and tearing through the air above her flooded her mind. She remembered her father’s head spouting a bout of red blood, a river flowing from his eye socket, followed by her mother’s chest blossoming red from the same line of artillery fire. Her father slumping to the floor like one of her ragdolls thrown at the wall. Her mother collapsing against the door. Her hands sticky with her mother’s life essence as she tried to plug up the multitude of holes. Her mother’s gurgle as she tried to speak, pointing to the bed, mouthing the word hide as blood dribbled over her lip and down her chin. 

Angela shook her head sharply, not sure how long she’d been staring at the floor. “That.” She said with conviction, glancing sheepishly back up at the librarian. “Anything here that can help me with that?”

Frau Kinsinger smiled fondly. “If we don’t, I can download resources for you and get books transferred from other schools or libraries for you.”

“Please?” Angela asked, looking up at the librarian with what could only be described as saddest puppy dog eyes the woman had ever seen. 

Over the next several months Sonja, as Angela learned to call Frau Kinsinger, was true to her word. Libraries of higher education institutes lent textbooks and medical dictionaries to the school’s library, and Angela couldn’t get enough. She devoured the knowledge like she would a good box of Swiss chocolates.

She was eventually able to study enough to test out of enough levels of lower education to get into, and excel at, several local higher education programs. Earning her several degrees, including an MD and PHD, with majors in Biology, Nanobiology, Nanotechnology and Engineering before she was a teenager. By the age of thirteen she had sued for the right to be her own legal guardian and was soon working full time at the University Hospital of Zürich. By the age of fifteen she had earned the position of Head of Surgery, a position which she fully dedicated herself to. A position that allowed her limited resources to work on her nanotechnology research, revolutionizing surgery starting in her hospital, their use spreading to other hospitals and countries. She couldn’t imagine moving any further up in the world. Head of Surgery at a major hospital? She hoped her parents would have been proud of her.


	2. Recruitment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela is approached by an Overwatch agent and given an offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ana and Fareeha appear, and Gabriel is mentioned.
> 
> So, I have a playlist I've been listening to as I write this. Primarily consists of CHVRCHES, to be honest. Got the name for this fic from the title of the first song on this list. Song and title seemed to fit. So, these are the songs, if you're interested:
> 
> Down Side of Me - CHVRCHES  
> Leave a Trace – CHVRCHES  
> Clearest Blue - CHVRCHES  
> The Mother We Share – CHVRCHES  
> Dead Air – CHVRCHES  
> Warning Call – CHVRCHES  
> In For The Kill – La Roux  
> Greatest – Sia  
> Symphony - Clean Bandit feat. Zara Larsson

Ana’s finger slid across the tablet she held in her off hand, the impressive file of a potential recruit scrolling by slowly. “Thank you for getting me in here.” Ana regarded the man in mint green scrubs standing beside her rubbing the five o’ clock shadow along his jaw, her use of the German language having greatly improved since being stationed at Headquarters here in Zürich.

__

“It was no problem Captain Amari.” The middle-aged man replied, steel blue eyes stern as they stared through the one-way mirror, observing the intense operation taking place on the other side. Her file indicated the age of her target as being a minor. 

“Overwatch saved my life, and the lives of my family, during the Omnic Crisis. It’s really the least I could do.” The man’s stiff posture remained, though his eyes softened minutely. “She’s a bit of a stick in the mud, but people expect a lot from her. She’s a good kid.”

 _A kid with a handful of Medical Degrees and a Doctor of Philosophy twice over._ She thought, sharp eyes watching every move the shortest figure in the other room made. She commanded the operating theater and moved with remarkable speed and precision. Features hidden beneath a white sterilization mask, a light blue surgical cap, matching light blue scrubs, and mostly engulfed in a surgical apron that surprisingly didn’t look too large on the small figure.

 _This child is only five years older than my own little one._ The thought was sobering, as she noted the young woman’s birth date. “I think we’re done here.” She addressed the man. “Thank you, Dr. Staheli. I’d like to meet with her, if that can be arranged.”

“Of course.” The surgeon led the way to the door, opening it for the agent. “I’ll have a nurse tell her to meet you outside of Dr. Ziegler’s office as soon as the surgery is done, if you like.”

“How long will that take, do you think?”

“If it were anyone else I’d say several hours. But, seeing as it’s Angela in there. Barring any complications, I’d say an hour, hour and a half, tops.” The surgeon couldn’t help hiding his grin.

“Impressive.” Ana quirked a brow.

“What can I say?” The man gave her a toothy smirk. “We only have the best surgeons here.”

Dr. Staheli flagged down a nurse who didn’t seem to be urgently heading anywhere, instructing her to guide the Captain to Dr. Ziegler’s office, and to let said doctor know about her visitor as soon as she was out of surgery. The nurse nodded, giving Ana several nervous glances before leading her to a door near the end of a hallway capped in a set of windows looking out over the city, promptly retreating. The door had a vintage style, engraved bronze plaque.

 

**Dr. Angela Ziegler, PhD.  
Head of Surgery**

 

The serif font etched onto the plaque proudly proclaiming this room as the young doctor’s office. The only items dotting the hallway being generic paint prints hung on the walls and somewhat comfortable looking chairs on the opposite wall from the door. Ana studied the chairs, but decided against sitting. Opting instead to lean against the sterile white wall beside the door frame, taking the time she had to reread the potential recruit’s file and appreciate the view of Zürich.

Hometown attacked and ravaged a little more than a decade ago during the Omnic Crisis. The attack had been one of the triggering catalysts in the formation of Overwatch. Before the formation took effect, however, it had taken local military forces several days, with the help of UN reinforcements, before they could push through the Bastion blockade and reach the many outlying settlements that had been in the horde’s warpath. The death toll was incensing. The machines left almost no survivors. This Angela Ziegler was one of only a handful of living residents that disaster relief services had been able to locate in her town. Her psych profile said the girl had been found stuck in a room with the bodies of her parents, leading to occasional panic attacks in present days. The girl, despite her traumatizing childhood, or maybe because of it, went on to be one of the youngest people to ever graduate college. Certainly, the youngest to gain the number of accolades she had earned over her short lifespan, and that didn’t even touch on the groundbreaking research and innovations the youth had made in the bio engineering field.

The girl caught Overwatch’s eye for a reason.

The click clack clicking of heels drew Captain Amari away from the landscape and her pondering. Her expression schooled, she hid her surprise. She had a picture of her in her file, of course. The doctor was young, she knew, a few months into her seventeenth year, but she looked even younger in person. Ana had a hard time attributing the list of accomplishments Jack had given her to this girl that was only a handful of years older than her little Fareeha. Ana steeled herself. This may be a teenager, but she would do the young woman no favors by treating her like a child.

____________________________________

Removing and disposing of the hypoallergenic gloves, Angela stripped out of the blood-spattered surgical apron. Exhausted, scrubs soaked with sweat, and famished she discarded the garment into the laundry chute. Exiting the operating theater, a nurse approaches her at a brisk pace. “Dr. Ziegler?”

“Yes?” She asks pleasantly. “What can I help you with?” The nurse, a woman who had to be at least twice Angela’s age, fidgeted with her clipboard. “There is someone here to see you. They look military.”

Angela raised her eyebrow at that. “What good reason could anybody from the military have to want to talk to me?”

“They wouldn’t say, Ma’am, just that they were a Captain and wanted to talk with you. They wore a blue barret with a golden bird badge of some sort on it, if that helps? Matched her uniform, seemed pretty official.” The woman responded with a quirked brow.

“Doesn’t bring anything to mind… Where are they now?”

“I brought them to the waiting area outside of your office. That’s where I saw them last.”

“Very well, thank you. I’ll see to our visitor.” With that, she was off. Curiosity gnawed at her. What sort of business would any armed forces have with her? Hopefully nothing that would delay her filing the paperwork related to the successful surgery she had just performed. As tedious as that task was, it was her job. If she didn’t take her job seriously, she doubted anybody would take her seriously. The young doctor nervously straightened her scrubs and ran a hand over her hair as she approached the dead-end hallway where her office was nestled.

Leaning against the wall beside her office’s doorframe, rather than sitting in one of the chairs opposite her, was a tall, imposing woman. Her long black hair, blue military uniform and matching beret all said one thing. Professional Bad Ass.

Taking a deep, measured breath, Angela reminded herself that she was the boss here. Some agent from some volatile organization could only frighten her if she let them. The agent straightened, turning her gaze away from the windows, as she approached. The other woman extended her hand in an accented English greeting. “Dr. Ziegler.”

“Yes, that’s me.” She replied in the same language, shaking the agent’s proffered hand in a quick firm shake. “And you are…?”

“Captain Amari. I come representing Overwatch. 

Retrieving her key card from her pocket, face down and focused on her task, hopefully hiding her surprise, as she unlocked her office door. “Ah, yes, Overwatch.” She said, her tone flat. Opening it, she entered, motion activated light illuminating the painfully organized interior. “Would you like to come in?” She asked the older woman.

“I would, thank you.” The Captain said, entering after the doctor, closing the door behind them.

Angela circled around her desk to her office chair. The girl was clearly exhausted. Bags under her eyes, her scrubs still a little dark with sweat in places. The young woman indicated the two chairs on the other side of her desk, sitting with a huff. “Have a seat.” 

The desk itself seemed devoid of all personal touches aside form a single paperweight; an unassuming rock the size of a chicken egg, holding down a sheaf of papers, with what appeared to be the lines of a medieval helmet carved all over the upper half. 

“Thank you, Doctor.” Ana sat, crossing her legs, back straight.

Angela opened the top drawer, producing a triangular, prism shaped box with the word Toblerone emblazoned in red on the side. The girl opened one end, producing the triangular, connected chocolate pieces. Snapping off a couple for herself, she held out the prism shaped box to her visitor. “Chocolate?” Angela offered. “It’s Swiss.”

Lips pressed into a thin line, Ana considered the treat. This was not how her meetings tended to start. “Sure. Thank you.” Ana snapped off a piece. Handing the box back, she popped the triangular chocolate into her mouth, noting that the doctor broke off a couple more pieces before devouring them herself.

“Sorry.” The young woman said dismissively around mouthful of chocolate, for a moment looking like the teenager she was. “I missed my last meal… or two? I can’t remember.” She waved her hand dismissively.

Ana frowned slightly at that in disapproval. It wasn’t her business, however, so she kept her thoughts to herself. Had the girl been her own daughter she would have had her grounded until she’d had a decent meal and rest.

“Anywho,” Angela began. “I can’t tell you how surprised I am to hear that an agent of Overwatch,” She motioned at Ana, “and a Captain, no less.” She continued, skepticism written clear as day in her furrowed blonde brows. “Begging your pardon, but I can’t seem to imagine what an organization such as yours would want, meeting with me.”

The Captain nodded. “True, you’re not exactly our normal candidate.” Ana paused, letting her words sink in. Angela’s head tilted ever so slightly, showing the confusion she so desperately tried to hide from the intimidating figure before her. “Then again, you’re not exactly a normal girl, are you? You took a field of medicine that was, for the most part, theoretical, and revolutionized it. You made the use of nanites in the healing process almost practical, and their use is becoming more widespread. Your innovations and research have saved many lives in the past handful of years alone, and that was with limited resources.” Ana paused for effect. “We believe you could make a bigger difference in the world working with us. You would have more control over your research.” Ana suppressed a grin as the young doctor’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “And a bigger budget.” Now I have her attention. She thought as the young girl pursed her lips into a thin line. 

“I make a big enough difference here.” Angela retorted weakly as she stiffly motioned around her. “I have performed hundreds of surgeries, used my nanites to treat cases thought hopeless, and my technology is being tested in other hospitals, now, as we speak.”

“But what if you could do more?” Ana challenged, standing abruptly before the doctor could speak her rebuttal. “Take your time, we don’t need an answer immediately. If you’d like a tour of our headquarters here in the city, I can be happy to arrange it.” She reached into her front pocket, pulling out a simple black business card, the gold and white Overwatch logo prominent. “I believe I’ve wasted enough of your time, for today, Dr. Ziegler.” She said as she placed the card with her Overwatch contact information on the young woman’s desk beside the carved rock. “Just think about it.” With that, she strode confidently from the girl’s office. Closing the door behind herself, she stopped holding her grin back. She would let the girl stew in her own thoughts, now. All she had to do was wait.

She was very good at waiting.

_____________________________

 

After the agent left Angela alone with her thoughts the internal struggle began. After her shift officially ended, all paperwork filed, she activated the touch screen that took up most of one wall of her office. A meticulous list of pros versus cons began to formulate, written in her messy, doctor handwriting. After that got her nowhere she started another list to the side of the previous; experiments she was interested in started and had requested to conduct. Projects that had been rejected because the hospital was unable to fund them.

She paced her office for hours, leaving only to brew herself a cup of hot chocolate spiked with coffee. Or was it coffee spiked with hot chocolate? She shook her head banishing the thought, retreating to her lists. She would likely end up sleeping on the couch that took up the wall next to her office door.

She could go home, back to her apartment. Too bad she hated it there. Not enough to occupy her mind in that lonely little hovel. Too much opportunity for her mind to wander and wonder. Thinking about what life would be like had her parents still been around. How her father would probably have scolded her for not putting her bowls and plates in the dishwasher, instead opting to leave them in the sink for a week. How her mother probably would have waited up to catch her coming home past normal human resting hours.

She was her own legal guardian. Had been since she had petitioned for it after receiving her first Master’s Degree. It was good, it gave her power over her life but… it was lonely.

Angela stopped pacing for a moment, half empty warm mug in hand. Turning to the list of pros and cons she added a pro.

“Meet more interesting people?”

She chuckled at herself. The digital clock on her wall read 11:48. She’d been at this for the past five hours or more. She honestly couldn’t remember when she’d started. She continued her pacing, hugging herself, casting several furtive glances at the black business card she, up to this point, refused to touch.

After another hour of pacing Angela broke down and picked the offending rectangle. Without regard to the time of night, or thought as to how early in the morning it was, the doctor took out her communication device, opened the phone app, and dialed in the number. After a few tense heartbeats in which Angela was tempted to just hang up and forget about it, a voice answered. “Amari speaking.”

“You mentioned a tour.”

__________________________________

“Fareeha, child!” The young Amari buried herself further into her blankets, her attempt to banish the cold of this awful city an attempt made in vain. “Time for breakfast!”

“Mama! It’s Saturday!” Fareeha groused, voice muffled by the thick fabric she was cocooned in. “There are no classes today, so there’s no reason to go to headquarters!” She could hear steps cross the threshold of her room, transitioning from the wood flooring of the hallway to the dulled thuds of boots on carpet.

“There is reason, my Fareeha. I have a possible recruit interested in a tour of the facilities and, as you said, there are no classes. No instructors, and nobody I want to order to watch you.”

“What about Gabe?” The young girl poked her face out from her burrito of warmth. “I think I got some more chords down and wanna show him.” She grinned, glancing at the small guitar sitting snuggly on its stand in the corner of her room.

“Gabe is out on a mission, also considering a candidate for recruitment.” Fareeha opened her mouth, but Ana interrupted. “Jack is also busy. Buck up, face it, you’re coming with me. Also,” Ana acknowledged, “This possible recruit, the one we’re going to meet at Headquarters, is a teenager, so I thought having you along might help.”

That got Fareeha’s attention. “How much of a teenager?”

Ana laughed, “What do you mean ‘how much of a teenager’, Fareeha?”

“Well,” She pursed her lips together as she mulled over her words. “Well, I’m almost a teenager. I’m a tween, I guess. How old is this recruit? At least eighteen, right? Isn’t that the minimum age requirement?”

The Captain inhaled deeply, thinking carefully. “Well, usually, yes, that is the case. Overwatch, being an international organization, does have an international standard in regards to minimum age requirements. However,” She held up a finger. “They have been legally emancipated.”

“What does that mean?” Fareeha asked, popping her whole head out from under her covers.

“It means that, while still a minor, in the eyes of the government they are seen as an adult. They can make certain decisions regarding their own lives that otherwise would not be allowed.”

“Wow! That’s cool! I want to be emancipated! AH!” Ana dove forward and threw the blankets from her daughter. She dove forward, Fareeha laughing uproariously as her mother began to mercilessly tickle her sides. “Ma- hahaha -ma!”

“Wrong family member!”

“UN- UNCLE!” Fareeha squawked indignantly between fits of laughter and giggles.

Ana relented, smiling fondly at her offspring. “Now, no emancipation for you. You may think I’m some terrible taskmaster, but the law will need more than ‘she makes me clean my room and do my homework’ as a reason for emancipation.”

“Hehe, okay Mama.” The young girl grinned back at her mother, jumping from her bed and bounding to her dresser. “So, how old are they? Close to my age?” She asked as she rummaged through the sweaters and long-sleeved shirts.

“Seventeen.”

“Mama, that’s practically eighteen!”

“Shush, you. Now, come down and eat so we can give the prospective recruit a tour.” Ana ordered, kissing her daughter’s forehead before blowing a raspberry into her cheek.

“Mama!” She laughed.

 

___________________________________________

 

 

Angela wasn’t quite sure what to expect as her taxi pulled up to the Overwatch Headquarters. Waiting for her out front of the large, prestigious military base was her recruiter. The woman wasn’t alone, much to the young doctor’s surprise. Standing next to, and slightly behind, the Captain was a younger girl. If the girl with gold beads adorning the braids dangling on either side of her scarved face wasn’t the agent’s offspring, Angela would eat her scrubs.

The day was what Angela would have called quite pleasant. The air just chill enough for her to wear her oversized cream colored knit sweater. The two waiting for her, however, looked prepared to weather Arctic conditions. Both bundled up in thick Overwatch black and blue down jackets, logo over their hearts, complete with matching scarves and gloves.

As Angela approached the duo, the young girl, who had to have been twelve or thirteen, at most, hid her cold flushed face further into her scarf. Nose and cheeks disappearing beneath the soft fabric as she watched the blonde’s approach with wide eyes.

____________________________________________

 

Whatever Fareeha had been expecting the recruit would be, what approached was not it. She felt a blush heat up her face that had nothing to do with the freezing temperatures. Which, by the way, didn’t seem to affect the girl walking up to them? While the Egyptians were what Fareeha could consider to be cozy and snug in their thick coats and accessories, the blonde now walking up to them was wearing dress shoes, black slacks, and a large knit sweater that looked large enough to be maybe fit two of her, not large enough that she appeared to be swimming in the extra fabric. The sweater color combined with the girl’s bouncy pony tail added a soft quality to her.

Fareeha hid her face up just passed her nose into her scarf, unable to look away from the blonde’s face. Thankfully, if the older girl had noticed she didn’t indicate it. She approached her mother, hand extended.

“Captain Amari.” The blonde greeted, voice accented in a way Fareeha had come to associate with the locals. “Thank you for being willing to meet me today, and on such short notice.” The young woman and her mother exchanged firm and professionally handshakes, Fareeha noting that the recruit wasn’t wearing gloves. “My schedule is fairly hectic, and I could fairly certain I could at least have the morning free.”

“You work every day?” Ana asked, disapproval clear in her voice as she studied the young woman’s features. “You must be exhausted.”

“I do what I must.” She replied succinctly. “Anyways, a tour?” She changed the subject none too stealthily.

“Hmm, yes.” Ana said, clearly wanting to continue, but dropping the subject for the time being. Raising her left hand, she indicated towards Fareeha. The younger girl felt her stomach drop as the other’s blue eyes focused on her. “This is my daughter, Fareeha.” She introduced. “Fareeha, this is Doctor Angela Ziegler.”

A Doctor? Said doctor reached her hand forward. “Greetings, Fareeha.” The Egyptian jerkily reached forward, grasping Angela’s bare hand in her gloved one, wishing she’d had the fortitude to forgo the gloves.

“Hi.” Her reply muffled by the scarf. Wanting to say something, but not sure what, she mumbled, “It’s cold.” Her heart skipped a beat as the doctor giggled.

“Just wait until winter hits.” Angela responded, warm smile reaching her eyes. Fareeha felt both warmed by the interaction and chilled by the thought of weather colder than this. “Don’t worry.” Angela giggled as she withdrew her hand. “We Swiss know how to deal with the cold.”

“H-how?” She asked, wide eyed.

“Let us begin the tour.” Ana interjected, clearly trying to suppress a smile. “Getting inside is one way to deal.”

“This is truth.” Angela smiled, less tense than when she had initially approached the duo.

 

The tour took longer than expected, but felt like it was done before Fareeha knew it. As her mother showed the doctor around, Fareeha found she genuinely was having fun, walking around with her mother and the prospective recruit. Angela was shown through the science lab and med bay, eyes wide with wonder and envy as Ana regaled her with the benefits of her working with and joining Overwatch. The more her mother talked, the more she learned about Dr. Ziegler, the more intimidating she found the other girl. Five years older than her, and here her mother was, trying to swoon her to their side with so much Fareeha just had no grasp of.

Overwatch wanted this other girl, apparently. Bad.

Part way through Ana and Angela speaking over the possibility of equipment to be added to the Medical Bay in the event of Angela agreeing to join, Ana’s commlink beeped.

“Hold on just a moment, Doctor.” Ana said as she withdrew the device from her jacket pocket, Angela nodding politely. “Amari, here.”

Angela turned back to Fareeha, sans scarf and gloves, now. “I’m sorry, I feel like we’ve been ignoring you.” She said, worry and guilt clear on her face.

“Nah, it’s okay.” She shrugged with a lopsided grin. “You came here to get a tour from Mama. Enjoying it so far?”

Angela huffed a cynical laugh. “You know, I am, actually.” Glancing around at all of the surrounding epquipment.

Ana glanced up at the two, lips pursed, brow furrowed. “I need to take care of something real quick. Fareeha, could you take Angela to the mess hall. It’s about lunch time. Put anything you two get on my account.”

“Can do Mama.” Fareeha could feel her stomach tighten in anxiety.

“Pardon, Captain, you don’t have to buy me food.” Angela interrupted, back ram rod straight. “I am plenty capable of providing for myself.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Ana said distractedly. “For, now, though, you are a quest of mine here and are to be treated as such. Fareeha.”

“Yes Mama.”

“Mess hall. I’ll meet you there.” And with that Ana was off, leaving the two in awkward silence. Angela still bristled with the need to defend her pride.

“So…” Fareeha began walking in the opposite direction her mother had gone, Angela catching up and following. “You mentioned that you Swiss have ways of dealing with the cold?” She asked, grinning when her question caused the older girl’s tense posture to relax and a small smile to curve her lips.

“Does the mess hall have a microwave, milk and whipped cream?”

 

__________________________________________________

 

Ten minutes, a quick purchase of enough whole milk for two people, a canister of whipped cream, the acquisition of two large mugs, and the location of a microwave later the two were ready to begin.

“Okay, so, hot milk with whipped cream on top.” Fareeha guessed as she surveyed their collection on the counter beside the communal microwave.

“Close.” Angela smiled, reaching into the small black unassuming purse she had brought with her. From it she produced a prism shaped box. “Swiss hot chocolate.”

“Like Swiss Miss?” Fareeha asked.

“That stuff doesn’t hold a candle to this and is to be used in only the direst of chocolate related emergencies.” Angela replied haughtily.

“Haha, ok.” The young Amari grinned as she watched Angela produce the many interconnected triangular pieces of chocolate. She broke the large bar into to segments, placing them to the side. Next, filling up the two mugs with milk, she deposited them into the microwave and set the timer. After a few minutes the appliance beeped, Angela removed the two mugs, and she deposited a half bar of chocolate, before handing one mug to Fareeha.

“Now, use your spoon and _very carefully_ stir until the milk is thoroughly saturated with the chocolate.” Angela instructed. “This is 2 Minute Hot Cocoa. Simple and delicious, and fantastic for cold days.” Angela began to stir her own drink, gaze shifting around.” Do you have place you like to sit here?”

Fareeha nodded and led the older girl to a table with chairs placed in such a way that one could look out onto the base’s launch pad, many jets currently parked off the runway. “Wow.” Angela said, eyes wide.

“Yeah.” Fareeha grinned.

The two sat there and waited, enjoying the drinks, conversation and company.

 

Neither was completely sure how much time had passed before Ana showed up, looking entirely disgruntled. Her mood improved as she approached her daughter and the doctor, the two of them laughing at heavens knew what, clutching mugs. 

“Sorry about that.” Ana apologized, gaining the attention of the girls. “A mission out in the field needed my attention.”

“Understandable.” Angela finished off the rest of her drink and stood to go return it to the kitchen. “I think I have seen enough, to be honest, Captain Amari.” She stated, eliciting a slight frown and narrowing of eyes from the sniper and her daughter. “I would like to go home and sleep on it, if that’s alright.”

“Yes, of course.” The Captain replied, walking with Angela towards the kitchen, Fareeha crumbling to her feet and quickly catching up with them.

“Thank you, Captain.” After taking care of the dirty dishes, Ana and Fareeha escorted Angela back to the main entrance.

“No taxi?” Ana asked sternly.

“No.” Angela replied lightly. “I would like to walk. Much to think on.” She shook hands with Ana. “I will get back to you soon, I promise.” When Fareeha went to offer a handshake as well, Angela instead strode forward and gave her a quick hug. “And thank you, Fareeha. It was very nice meeting you.” With a smile, she turned, ponttail whipping behind her as she made her way onto the sidewalks of Zürich to wind her way home.

Ana glanced over at her daughter’s red face and stiff posture. Grinning and rolling her eyes, she turned and walked back into the warmth of the base. Fareeha following soon after.

 

________________________________

 

Ana is very good at waiting. There have been times where she has had to wait for hours, staring at the same spot, waiting for just the right moment to make her move.

This was not one of those times. After the sun set and Ana and Fareeha were getting ready for bed the Captain’s commlink began beeping. Taking it out, she noted the caller with a grin. “Dr. Ziegler.” She answered smugly, Fareeha’s head instantly popping from around the doorway to her bedroom, full attention on her mother and her current conversation. “It is very good to hear from you, it has been awhile.” She joked.

“Hello Captain.” Angela greeted. “I know, it’s almost like it’s been hours since I was last at your Headquarters.” Ana laughed good naturedly. “Captain.” Angela said, tone nervous and serious. “I thought about your offer.”

“Yes, and what are your thoughts on the offer?” Ana said neutrally, Fareeha’s eyes widening.  


______________________________________

 

Fareeha watched her mother like a hawk, toothbrush stopped and hanging from her mouth. Quickly darting back into the bathroom to finish brushing her teeth, when she got back her mother was no longer on the line with Angela.

“Well?” She asked eagerly, causing her mother to raise an eyebrow.

“What?” She asked defensively. “Not a lot of people around here my age! And she’s really nice, it would be cool to have a new friend around…” She trailed off. “That is if…”

“If she took my offer.” Ana watched her daughter for several moments before turning around. “Which, she did.” She said with a triumphant smile. “I got my recruit. Let’s see if Gabe can bring in this cowboy causing him so much trouble in the field.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was enjoyable!  
> Please be gentle >_<
> 
> I'm going to be adding some extra nerdiness in the next chapter.
> 
> Roll for Initiative


	3. Initiative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lab work, Dinner, and Tabletop Gaming.
> 
>    
> **Edit: Thereis a Critical Role referencein this chapter, though I feel the need to point out that this was written and posted (October 9th, 2017), pre- Campaign 2 and that character references are from a one shot that was done and that I have linked down at the bottom.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to get this done earlier than now, hope it came out alright.
> 
> Well, this is as ready as I think I'm going to get this update.
> 
> Fingers crossed this is enjoyable!

Fareeha chewed the end of her stylus as she read through the latest piece of homework assigned by the base’s resident tutor. With many agents often getting transferred the world over, it was less impactful on the agents’ offspring to have a series of tutors teaching online classes to students both abroad as well as residing at headquarters. There was consistency there that would not have existed in constant transfers to local school systems.

She glanced sidelong at her mother as the world-famous Amari ordered take out from a local food establishment. The two were feeling sentimental, and so, Middle Eastern food was the order of the day. As her mother named off the desired dishes, Fareeha noticed her ordering more than their usual. _“Thank you.”_ Her mother said before ending the call with a deft tap to her commlink.

“ _Expecting company?”_ She asked nonchalantly in Egyptian Arabic. _"Is it that silly cowboy Gabe brought back with him? I like him. Gave me a bunch of music by this guy named Weird Al. Old stuff, but really funny. There’s this one song, called 'Tacky', and it makes me think of Jack when he grills for the yearly summer barbecue."_

_"Seriously, who wears socks and sandals?”_ Fareeha giggles around the stylus she continues to gnaw.

_“No. Jesse will not be joining us, sorry.”_ Ana replied in kind, lips quirking up in a smile as she rolled her eyes.

_"I have a feeling an intervention is needed. Would you be a dear and meet the delivery driver at the front desk for me, please, Faree."_ She asked.

_"Yes, Mama."_ The girl replied, eyes back to her homework. _“I’m just about done with this, just a couple more problems. I’ll head out to wait for the food after this.”_

_“Thank you, you’re such a sweet girl.”_ Ana doted, mussing Fareeha’s hair.

_" Mama!”_ She whined as her mother exited their suite with a chuckle.

___________________________ 

Ana strode through the halls of Headquarters, comfortable shirt and jeans, even her favorite slippers, rather than formal dress blues a clear sign that she was not on duty, greeting friends and fellow agents on the way towards the Medical Wing of the base. As she suspected, all the lights were on the med bay, not just the auxiliary afterhours lights.

Over the past few months many an agent has been patched up here, mended and healed by the organization’s new Head of Medical Research from minor injuries or via major invasive surgery. The girl’s addition of nanotechnology in the healing process reducing the number of fatally injured and debilitated agents. Aside from that it was where the new Head of Medical Research was stationed, given her own office within the confines of the bay, and, if the young woman’s subordinates were true to their word, taking better care of those around her than herself. Often staying later than those she oversaw and arriving in the morning before any of them. It was speculated that the young doctor slept more in her office than in her assigned quarters among the base’s residential suites. Her first impression of the good Doctor seemed to be proven correct.

Ana would have entered had Jack not beaten her there, although he was still in uniform. “Jack.” She greeted as both arrived at the med bay double swing doors at roughly the same time.

“Ana.” He greeted back. “What brings you here?”

“I came to speak with the Doctor. Yourself?”

“Same. Business or no?”

“No. You?”

“Yes.”

At the Ana gestured him ahead of her. “After you, then. My objective can wait.”

______ _ _ _ _

_________________________________ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

Someone knocking had Angela glancing up from the electron microscope as the door to her office within the med bay slid open with the barest of hisses. The sharp gazed Strike Commander strode into the doctor’s appointed domain.

Despite only overseeing this domain for a bare handful of months, the young Swiss woman had made many drastic, beneficial changes to Overwatch’s medical procedures and operations. Angela stood, fumbling a salute, nervously managing to smack herself in the forehead in her haste.

Strike Commander Morrison raised one blonde brow, blue eyes twinkling in amusement. “At ease? Isn’t it a bit late to be working, Doctor?” There was the barest of grins on his face. Had Angela known him better, she would have noticed it.

“Yes, um, Sir. Uh, Strike Commander Morrison, Sir.” Her inexperience in any sort of military setting dauntingly obvious. “If I don’t treat my work with the utmost zeal, then who will take me seriously. Sir?

“Relax, Doctor, you’re doing a great job.” The Strike Commander chuckled. “Also, in a relaxed setting, you can just call me ‘Jack’. Most do. We understand your background, and considering your position you’re not held to the same standards as a foot soldier. You have rank and authority, after all, as the Head of Medical Research.”

“Yes, Sir. I mean, Yes, Jack, Sir.”

“You’ll get the hang of it, kiddo, don’t you worry.” Angela bristled at being called ‘kiddo’, however her chagrined state, and fear of reprimand, held her back from reacting in any sort of way. “Anywho, I came by to see how things were going. I also wanted to get your opinion on the possibility for field work, should the need arise.”

Angela’s brows knit together, frown still in place. “Field work, Sir?”

“Yes. While the work you’ll be doing here is of supreme importance, there may be times when a combat medic in the field saving the lives of agents, or manning a triage tent on the front line, will be more impactful than a researcher in a lab.”

“I have been very impactful on the world of medicine being a researcher in a lab, but, wherever I can go to be the most help,” Angela agreed solemnly. “While my research is quite important, saving lives and alleviating suffering is my life goal.”

“Good to hear, Doctor. I’d like you to add a focus to finding a way to make your tech a bit more mobile to your list of projects. Not that you’ll be approved for field work until you’re at least eighteen years of age, but whatever you can come up with will need to be mission ready before you’re cleared for work out on the front lines.” Jack casually meandered about the room, taking in the ventures Angela had going on the various counters and work spaces along the walls of the doctor’s spacious office. Beakers, petri dishes, three cages of mice, and a couple anti-contamination glove boxes all seemed to have some sort of endeavor brewing within.

The Swiss teen chewed her thumb nail as she watched Strike Comm- Jack eye her projects. “Well, Jack, Sir, as you know, my nanites have been designed to help with healing and cell regeneration.” The teen walked over to the cages of mice. “I have a new type of nanobot in the works that has more augmentative properties.” She indicated one cage.

“This is the control group. They have been injected with my base nanites. They are being monitored for the effects of long term use of regular nanite injections and use.” She strode to the next cage. “This next batch here have been upgraded, and on top of an injection of the upgraded nanites have each had a stent surgically implanted into a major artery that works as a repair and recharge station for the bots. Thus, allowing the present bots to last longer between injections. This one,” she indicated the third, and final, cage. “This batch is a nanite that has been modified to expedite the flow of oxygen and adrenaline throughout the subject’s blood and muscles. The hope is that perception, reaction time and fatigue can be affected drastically for a time, allowing for greater accuracy and endurance.”

Jack nodded his approval. “Very good, Doctor. Keep me appraised of these projects. There appears to be a great deal of potential here.”

“Indeed!” The young woman exclaimed excitedly. “Once the kinks in the tech have been worked out and the success rating for each nano type is stable and at acceptable levels I plan on getting to work on possible human testing, as well as a delivery system, which would make use.”  
“Very good, Doctor Ziegler. I look forward to updates to these ventures. As you were.” He dismissed, leaving the young Swiss just as quickly as he had come. With a nod to herself, Angela sat back at her desk and once again put her nose to the grindstone, so to speak.

When the door to her office hissed open again Angela blinked up in surprise. “Was there some else Ja- Oh. Hello Ana how may I-“ Ana spoke over her, effectively steamrolling everything Angela had intended on saying.

“What did you eat for lunch, young lady?” The stern voice of Captain Amari sent a surge of panic straight through her.

Angela blinked owlishly at the Captain, noting the woman’s civilian garb; dark plain short sleeved shirt, dark jeans, and fuzzy blue slippers.

“Uh.” Angela glanced down at her mug, dredges of her hot cocoa and coffee concoction the only remnants. “I had a two-bean soup.” She said, stretching the truth.

Ana narrowed her eyes skeptically, not missing the tell. “And dinner?”

Angela blanched. “Um, I had seconds of the, uh, two-bean soup?”

“Is that right?” The Egyptian folded her arms across her chest, fixing the Swiss with her unblinking gaze.

“Yes?” The younger of the two squeaked out.

“I’m calling bullshit on that. “The harsh language eliciting a flinch from Angela.”Hot chocolate and coffee does not count as soup. Nor is it considered a meal, of any sort. Wrap up what you’re working on. You’re joining Fareeha and myself for dinner.”

“I, Captain!” Angela whined. “I’m working on something very important!”

“Not more important than your health. You’re coming with me, and that’s an order.” Angela made to argue, but the elder of the two cut her off once more. “While you may not be a soldier and set to grunt work, within this organization I am your superior. I am ordering you to wrap up, now, or I will do it for you.” Ana said, using her best Mom Voice.

Angela’s eyes widened in panic, rapidly saving all files before shutting her research console down for the night, hastily grabbing the rock from her desktop and shoving it in her pocket. “Thank you.” Ana said, inclining her head slightly, quirking her brow, earning a petulant grumble the medical professional.

Once that was said and done, Angela rose to her feet and gestured to the door. “Lead on, oh, Fearless Leader.”

Ana laughed, walking out of Angela’s office, shutting the door behind them. “Don’t sass me, girl.” Angela glared daggers at the older woman as they made their way towards the wing where those who lived on base resided.

“I may be young, but I’ll have you know that I am a trailblazer in the field of medicine and medical biotics. A doctor, and an engineer in my own right.” The Doctor snapped.

Ana rounded on her, brow arched. “Don’t get me wrong, Doctor.” Ana’s serious tone undercut Angela’s annoyance. “As a fellow professional in my own field, I respect your expert opinion. I recognize that, yes, you are quite smart and exceptional at taking care of others.” Ana jabbed Angela’s sternum with one well-manicured finger. “However, as a mother, the time you take to care for yourself, or rather the none existence of said time, I will not abide. It is unacceptable.”

“You are not my mother.” Angela replies sounding sullen, even to herself, cheeks warming in shame and embarrassment.

“No.” The Captain agreed. “I’m not. But that does not mean that I can’t try and help as a mother would.” Ana turned, continuing towards the Amari living quarters. “Besides, you’re about to find out why so many call me ‘Mama Bear’.”

Ana was a dozen or so paces ahead of her when Angela finally got her feet moving once more, jogging to catch up with her recruiter, white lab coat flapping behind her.

“Captain?” Angela’s subdued voice broke the silence.

“Yes, Doctor?”

“If we are going to dinner… Do you and Fareeha not eat in the mess hall?”

“Sometimes we do.” Ana supplied. “Most of the time either Fareeha will pick us up food or we order out. Tonight, we ordered from Za’atar, a lovely Lebanese restaurant.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever had Lebanese cuisine.” Angela said hesitantly.

Ana replied confidently. “I believe you’ll enjoy it. I ordered enough for you, as well.”

“You planned on making me come to dinner.”

“Yes.” Ana was unrepentant. “You should try the Falafel.”

 

____________________________

 

Fareeha trudged back to her and her mother’s quarters, both arms hugging the large, hefty bag of food to herself, humming along to the music playing through her wireless earbuds. Singing to herself as she activated the sliding door to the Amari suite. “But if I finish all of my chores, and you finish thine, then tonight we’re gonna party,” she looked up to see her mother sitting at their table, both looking up at her from an interrupted conversation, “like it’s 1699…” She plucked the earbuds from her ears, pausing the song.

“Reeha!” Ana exclaimed, taking the bag containing their dinner from her daughter. “I’ll get this set up for us.”

“Anything I can do to help?” The blond fidgeted nervously, hands clasped together in front of her.

“Yes, there is, thank you. Fareeha, could you and Angela set the table, place?” Ana asked as she extracted each container from the bag, removed the lids, and set them up buffet style on the countertop.

Angela stood and joined Fareeha in gathering plates, forks, and knives. The two quickly placed the dishes and cutlery in neat little set ups in front of each of the three spots to be used that night.

“Captain,” Angela stood awkwardly off to the side once there appeared to be nothing else to do but to load up plates with grub. “I’m sorry you felt the need to bring me here.”

“Call me Ana. Does your apology that mean that you’ll actually be changing your eating habits, or that you’re just going to try and hide it better?” Ana challenged.

Fareeha watched as Angela fidgeted in place. “I can say that I will try, but most creatures, humans included, are creatures of habit. We all have different pathways that our brains are accustomed to taking and-“

“Oh, hush, and grab a plate.” Ana grumped. “Fareeha, help Angela with that, would you? As she told me on the way here, this is all new cuisine to her.”

Fareeha grinned. “Sure!” She swooped over to the doctor, the empty plate from the stunned doctor. She made sure to get a sampling from each dish. When the plate was full to toppling, the young girl returned to the table, arching her brow in a way that was very Ana-esque. “You know, you can sit down, if you want…”

“Right.” Angela replied in a small voice, hesitantly sitting down as Fareeha placed the plate in front of her before setting her own meal up.

“So, Doc,” the youngest in the room asked. “What do you think of Overwatch, so far?” It did not take long for her own plate to be loaded up with her favorites, taking her own seat at the small circular table.

“It’s been an eye-opening experience, to be sure.” Fareeha glanced up, Angela giving her a small smile. “It certainly isn’t exactly what I thought a world renowned and global encompassing military organization would be like, on the inside. People here genuinely care about each other.”

Fareeha tilted her head, “What do you mean?” She asked, confused. “What were you expecting?”

“Well,” The blond gestured at the two Egyptians before her. “I might have expected a reprimand for my less than healthy eating habits, but instead my commanding officer, essentially, made me join in on her family dinner.”

“Well, I guess, that’s just what moms do.” Fareeha turned to look at her mother, whose eyes were watching the Swiss teen carefully.

“You two would know that better than I, I suppose.” Ziegler said, stabbing her fork into her first morsel. "This is really good." She said after taking her first bite, Ana meeting her daughter’s eyes, her gaze solemn. Fareeha grew up around the military. She didn’t need every explanation to be spoon-fed to her.

“What happened, if it’s okay if I ask?” Ana shook her head slightly in warning, Angela’s gaze focused purely on the food before her, missing the mother’s signal to her daughter.

“They aren’t around anymore.” She supplied succinctly, no elaboration or explanation, leaving Fareeha wide eyed and with no clue what to say. “What about you?” She asked after a few tense moments. “I’ve met Ana,” She indicated the elder Amari with her fork.

“Well, actually.” Ana piped up. “Reeha will be visiting her father in Canada once this semester is complete.”

“Canada?” Angela asked, looking from mother to daughter.

“Yeah,” Fareeha said around a mouthful of food, embarrassment and panic written on her face.

“She visits every summer. Isn’t that right, Reeha?” Ana said, digging into her own food once more.

The younger of the three swallowed her food this time before talking. “Yeah. It’s really cool! He gives me lessons in history, what his tribe’s contributions to each of the three world wars, the hardships they’ve gone through, and how they are continuing to uphold as much of their heritage as they can.” She told the older girl enthusiastically. “He also teaches me the traditional ways to hunt. It’s so much fun!”

Angela smiled at her, thankful for her dark complexion and its ability to hide her blushing. “That sounds super!”

The rest of the evening was filled with friendly conversation. Ana was happy that there was some motherly affection she could offer the bereft teen, the teen was happy to be in company that helped her feel less of an outsider, and the youngest grinned ear to ear, just pleased that she was able to spend the evening with two of her favorite people.

One evening dinner turned into two that week. The two turned into three then next week. Eventually, Angela found herself joining the Amaris at just about every evening meal, unusual circumstances preventing.

Fareeha came to know Angela as more than just a really pretty doctor. She was obviously smart, being a doctor at seventeen and all, but she was also kind and compassionate. She abhorred violence, and would often act as a calming, mediating force between mother and daughter, should the need arise.

Angela came to know Fareeha as a delightful and dedicated, strong soul. She had no doubt that whatever the young Egyptian set her mind to, success was assured.

Ana came to know that while her daughter seemed to be harboring a little crush on the good doctor, the young Swiss was preoccupied with so much, to the point where it seemed like she was purposefully seeking endless distractions in order to avoid her personal problems, that she hadn’t the slightest of clues. When Fareeha went off to North America, Ana and Angela saw her off at the terminal in the Zürich Airport, both waving as the plane taxied onto the runway.

In Fareeha’s absence Angela still joined Ana for dinner, but just not as often as when the younger was around. Angela either found herself verging on a breakthrough, or crawling through a dungeon with the other new recruit, the large German, and the leader of Blackwatch.

___________________________

While there was a normal amount of activity to be had around headquarters, what with hundreds of agents and their families living here, the noise level current being emitted from the quarters of the organization’s resident cowboy were not at all what Fareeha was used to.

Having just returned from visiting her father in Canada for the summer, the young Amari was looking forward to seeing everybody. Some certain blonde people more than others, but still she had been unable to find any of her friends in her meandering around the base. She roamed passed the new cowboy recruit’s door, the sound of Angela giggling from within making her blood run cold. Her chest constricted with some fierce emotion she was not at all confident in dealing with. Angela’s words were muffled by the door, but Reinhardt’s booming laughter in response set the Egyptian at ease.

Hoping to test her luck, Fareeha walked up to Jesse’s door, puffed out her chest, and knocked. The talking and laughing didn’t stop, but after a few moments the door slid open, and she found herself looking up into Angela’s twinkling blue eyes. Her smile widened at the sight of her absent friend. “Reeha!” She exclaims, pulling the younger girl into a warm embrace. “You’re back! How was Canada?”

“Hey, Fareeha!” McCree called out from behind his sitting position at the head of the rectangular poker table that was somehow approved by higher ups, his features somewhat obscured by a long, segmented cardboard picture of some scene with a large red dragon attacking a figure on horseback. “Join us!”

“What are you guys doing?” Face warm, darker complexion hiding her blush, she eyed the group sitting around the table with curiosity as Angela withdrew and returned to her chair across from Reinhardt. Everybody had their com devices out, though each one had statistic sheets active. Over the normal green felt of the table there was some sort of holographic landscape with figures projected. For the most part humanoid, spread out in a conservative marching order.

“Why, we are dispensing justice across the land, my young Amari! Something has been ravaging the local villages for far too long! We are here to put a stop to this madness!” Reinhardt pounded his massive first on the table, shifting Gabriel‘s drink precariously close to the edge. The Blackwatch leader caught the vessel before it could tumble, taking a long sip through the straw, his mechanical jaw set and eyes rolling.

“That is _your_ character’s motivation, Sirrah,” Gabe retorted in an awful British accent. “So long as we're getting paid I care not what we do.”

Fareeha met Angela’s mirthful gaze with a raised brow at the blonde next to Gabe. “He's chaotic neutral.” Angela stage whispers to Fareeha, earning her a confused look. “But, aye, you should join us on our mission, Reeha.” Said, her accent some horrid attempt at sounding Moroccan or Scottish. “We’re playing Dungeons & Dragons. I believe you would have fun. Besides that, we could use more muscle in our game to help us serve justice unto the foul tormentors of the innocent. Jesse here is shockingly good at a number of foreign accents and voices.”

Fareeha couldn’t help but return the Swiss doctor’s infectious grin, or the bantering between Gabe and his recruit, with a bark of laughter. The older teen’s awful attempt at a Moroccan, or was it Romanian, accent not helping the young Egyptian to keep her composure.

“It’s true.” Gabe agreed. “When he was playing that bar maid NPC, I was nearly convinced he actually was a young elven lass just wanting to go on an adventure.”

“Shut yer face old man.” Jesse griped. “But, thanks for the compliment?” Gabe grinned and nodded in acknowledgement. “We’re using an old campaign guide one of the guys back in the Deadlock Gang traded a pack of cigarettes for this back in prison. Used it when playing Dungeons & Dragons & Convicts.” He said, brandishing the old book. “Was originally published back in 2017, this here is an original print of the Tal’Dorei Campaign Guide written by Matt Mercer.”

“I don’t know what that is or who that is, but, really, you guys,” She giggles, pointing at Angela, “need muscle.” She looks down at her own tan, skinny little arms. Jesse seemed a little deflated that his book went unrecognized.  
“Well, we could really use another damage dealer.”

“Indeed, we could, young one!” Reinhardt bellowed. “These foul blackguards are making a mockery of us!” He pronounced blackguards the old-fashioned way, like blagerds.

Angela pats the empty seat between herself and Jesse, the cowboy piping up. “Y’know, Scamp, we were supposed to have somebody else join us but they never did show. Had a Barbarian premade for them. That is, if you'd like these scrappy adventurers to show ya the ropes.”

Fareeha eyed the empty chair and Angela nervously. “Um…” Angela’s encouraging smile and the chance to spend time with her and the others did her in, and Fareeha found herself sitting beside the intimidating, pretty, and apparently Dungeons & Dragons playing doctor for the next four hours, the doctor happily helping her with any questions or confusion she had.

 

Every time Angela leaned over to point out something on the character sheet Jesse had loaded onto her communicator she caught a lungful of the doctor’s perfume-like scent. Herbal and minty.

Jesse caught her flustered gaze, returning it with a grin. What he seemed to find amusing, the Swiss teen seemed entirely oblivious to. Fareeha found she had stopped listening when she focused back to what the blonde had been saying. “So, because I have the War Caster feat I roll with advantage when making a Constitution Saving Throw in order to maintain my concentration on my Bless spell. So, Tako, you are still Blessed.” The young Egyptian grinned at the name she had chosen for her character.

“Hashtag Blessed.” Fareeha muttered, earning a merry guffaw from her party and the Dungeon Master.  
She fleshed out her character as she played, becoming more familiar with the others’ characters as well as they interacted.

The Party, as Fareeha learned was known as The SHITS.

“The SHITS?” The girl asked, eyebrow quirked as high as it could go.

Angela and Gabe replied in unison. “The Super High Intensity Team.” The two fist-bumped while Reinhardt guffawed.

The newest member of the party also came to learn that Reinhardt played McLaren von Tosscobble, a Human Bloodhunter of the Order of the Lycan, basically a werewolf. Gabe played Drat’z Dark Elf dual sword wielding ranger who was totally not evil, despite his evil roots in the Underdark. Angela poked fun at the character that was “totally not a rip off of Drizz’t”, whoever that was, and somehow an overused trope. The doctor’s character was Jester, a red skinned, black haired tiefling, a half demon of sorts, cleric whose patron and source of power was The Traveler, the God of Chaos.

“Really?” Farheea had asked. “The God of Chaos?”

“Really.” Replied with a grin, her voice her own again. “Reinhardt and Gabe wanted to play characters they identified with.” Both gentlemen nodded, Rein with more enthusiasm than Reyes. “While I’m still capable of healing, that’s not my focus. I wanted to play somebody that wasn’t like me. I’m no fun.” Angela steepled her fingers together manically. “But Jester? Jester is quite chaotic and fun to play.”

Fareeha frowned and made to retort about the whole 'no fun' comment, but McCree’s booming voice interrupted her. “Fareeha, your character is about to be introduced. Have you thought of a name? If you choose a different race I can change the stats around and next time the numbers’ll be more accurate.”

She glanced over at the other members of her party, their smiles and nods encouraging. “Um, well, I thought about it. I’m Tako the also a tiefling barbarian.” Fareeha mumbled. Angela high fived her, Gabe nodded and Rein whooped.

“A fine choice, lass!” Rein cheered.

After a good three to four hours of adventuring, Fareeha found she was getting the hang of, and really enjoying, the game. Angela was right. McCree was fantastic at voices!

“You see rushing out the nearby fog a troupe of small, kind of, lurking humanoid bodies with, like, leathers and hides and furs wrapped around them. Really thick, rubbery grey flesh, though the limbs themselves are lanky. And nasty-looking protruded fish heads with bulbous eyes.” McCree marks that down in his notes before looking about, a devious grin spreading across his visage. “Now, ya SHITs. I would like you all to roll for initiative.”

 

______________________________

 

It had been a few months since Fareeha and her mother had given the pretty doctor the tour of the headquarters, and a couple of weeks since she had returned to the country and The Shits truly formed as a group. The group had played a couple of more times, since. She was shocked at how much fun she was having pretending to be heroic and grand with such an awesome group of people.

Speaking of awesome people, the young Egyptian found herself in search of the older girl who had become her defacto best friend of late.

Passing by the open doors of the med bay Fareeha noticed old, old, old sounding classical music playing. A full on orchestral music. She couldn’t think of a single time in the past months, the weeks in Canada aside, when she had heard anything but voices, or the beeping or whirring of machinery, coming from the doctor’s domain. Carefully sliding the door open, she peeked in, expecting to see the blonde sitting at her desk, typing away at the computer with the large interactive monitor. Except that the desk was vacant. Stepping into the sterile, impeccable, intimidating room Fareeha swept the area, her dark umber eyes scanning for life.

There, on the examination couch, lying on her side with her back to the door, was Angela. If not for the sporadic trembling of the older girl’s shoulders she would have thought her asleep.

“Ang?” The older girl stiffened almost imperceptibly at the soft call of her name. When the blonde didn't move, or respond, the young Amari rolled her eyes. “You can give up the act, Angie, I know you're not sleeping. No use playing possum.” She called out the doctor, earning a deep sigh from the figure on the examination couch, shoulder slumping in defeat.

Fareeha grinned in triumph until Angela rolled over and her gaze was met with red rimmed, blood shot blue eyes. Angela glanced down and away, unable to maintain eye contact. “Sorry.” She croaked out sheepishly, a tablet, projecting a holo video, in her white knuckled grip. “Heh. Everyone else seemed to buy it.” She shrugged. “Or they could tell I wanted to be left alone and wanted me to think they bought it.”

Fareeha felt an apology on the tip of her tongue, but what she ended up saying instead was, “What are you watching?”

Angela sat up and tilted the tablet towards the younger girl as she joined the doctor on the couch. The video showed a full orchestra playing. She didn't know the names of all of the instruments, but she could identify a few. The music that the dozens of musicians wove together was a melancholy tapestry. It was beautiful, the way every musician seemed to move in sync with the rest, the conductor’s movements sharp and erratic, but controlled.

“Wait!” The Egyptian exclaimed. “Go back, go back, rewind!” Angela obliged, playing the video back several seconds. Fareeha watched the screen intently, waiting for just the right moment. When she saw what had caught her eye, her finger snapped down. The blonde woman on the vid paused in mid motion, eyes closed, a look of intense concentration creasing her brows, her bow’s travel across the strings of her violin frozen in place. Her hair was done up in an elegant bun, her black blouse giving her a sharp look. “Is that you?”

Angela held the vid closer to her face, the resemblance even more striking when side by side. “No.” Was her soft reply, her hand reaching and passing through the holo as though to touch the violinist. “My mother was the concertmaster, the leader of the first violin section, of Berliner Philharmoniker.” A slight grin softened the grim set to the Swiss girl’s countenance. "They are a world renowned orchestra based in Berlin, Germany. My mother traveled often, playing concerts all over the world when she wasn't home." She paused and let the quiet stretch.

“People call me a prodigy.” She continued quietly. “That was after I decided what I wanted to do. My mother was, too. Or so I've read and been told. All information I have is secondhand, thirdhand.” She pressed play and her older doppelganger continued moving in fluid, yet somehow jerky, motions before the camera focused on other musicians in the orchestra as the music continued. “Perfect pitch, she began learning how to play the violin before she was seven, wanting to take lessons like her older brother. She took to it like a seal in water. Even back then they knew she would go professional.”

Silence fell between the two that lasted several minutes as the current recorded performance ended and the next on the playlist began. Angela’s mother was also featured in this one, though her hair was down this time, and she wore a different outfit, though still black and sharp.

“It's been ten years, since I last saw my parents in person. Ten years ago, today, my village was attacked. I remember everything so clearly. I remember my mother and my father. My mother... I like remembering her like this.” Angela whispered shakily. She shuddered out a steadying breath, her next words spoken with more control. “Not like the last time I saw her. This is what my mother was, not… She… This was her… I just wish I had appreciated being dragged along to her performances as a child, rather than complain about how bored it made me. I wish I could go to just one concert as an adult. See her play for myself, again, not vicariously through old vids the group’s page uploaded to social media fifteen years ago.”

Fareeha slowly reached forward until her knuckles brushed those of the older teen. Angela started in surprise, wide, teary gaze snapping down to their hands. After a heartbeat or two Fareeha, feeling foolish, began to withdraw her hand before Angela turned her's over and grasped it. Her grip tightened as she closed her eyes, the tears she had adamantly been holding back streaming down her cheeks.

“I wish I could just talk to my parents, just for five minutes.” Angela scowled, scrunching her eyes closed tighter. “Fareeha, you know how when you get to know somebody, you get a kind of feel for them?”

“What do you mean?” The younger girl murmured, afraid to speak any louder, afraid she would appear disrespectful. To see Angela in this state seemed so wrong. Angela was always so cheerful and happy, a smile at the ready.

“Example,” the young Swiss began shakily. “If you were to, say, tell a joke to Reinhardt he would no doubt laugh uproariously. If you were to somehow insult his honor he would bellow in fury. You have a general sense of him as a person.”

“I think I get it. Kind of like when I get hurt doing something stupid.” Fareeha’s grinned impishly. “And I know I can either come here and get patched up and scolded by you for getting hurt or I can ignore it and you find out anyway and get patched up and scolded even worse than if I’d just gotten it taken care of right in the first place.”

Angela barked a laugh at that, the younger girl beamed that she had helped bring about that reaction. “Yes.” The doctor agreed, resting the video device on her lap so she could wipe at her eyes with her now free hand. “Like that.” She said, her voice carrying less of a morose tinge than it had at the beginning of the conversation. “I don't have that. When I think of my parents I can only speculate. I have no real sense of them as people. To get to know somebody as an adult is different than knowing them as a child." She explained. "When you are older I have no doubt that your sense of Ana will change. You will always be her baby." Fareeha felt her cheeks heat up at Angela referring to her as a baby. "But when you are both older, your perspectives will change, and you'll both have a chance to meet each other on more equal ground."

Angela let out a shuddered breathe, changing the subject somewhat. "Hey, do you want to hear a song my mother used to sing to me? I didn’t understand the words until later, it being from Guys and Dolls, an American musical and all…”

“Sure.” Fareeha smiled, soft brown eyes meeting bright blue tinged in red. “I’d love to.”

The smile that spread across the doctor’s face was genuine and grateful, “Thank you.” She said before pulling up the video. The video started playing immediately, clearly very, very old. Angela sung along with it when it came to the part her mother would croon while giving her the biggest hugs and kisses she could remember. “I love you! A bushel and a peck! A bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took many tidbits from the online D&D game Critical Role and the one shot they played with Gamespot.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d6ndE0N4l1g
> 
> The game's Dungeon Master, Matthew Mercer, is the man who voices McCree. So, I made McCree a DM. :)
> 
> Also, the restaurant mentioned is one I googled, so, it actually exists!


	4. Pride Before the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A member of Blackwatch shows up and puts thoughts into Angela's head. 
> 
> There is a mishap while the Amari ladies spar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been awhile, and I apologize for that. But, you know, life and all that. *cringe*
> 
>  
> 
> Needles and their use are mentioned in this chapter.
> 
> Also, I am not a medical professional by any stretch of the imagination, so there's likely to be many inaccuracies here and everywhere throughout this fic.
> 
> Also, this has not been proofread, so apologies for any spelling/grammar errors and inaccuracies. 
> 
> Uuuuh, I hope this is enjoyable! *backs away slowly*

Angela rubbed her closed, dry, tired eyes with the heels of both hands. Her hair was less than immaculate, half falling out of her poor excuse of a ponytail. She had a long, thin cocoa/coffee stain down the left side of her lab coat, now dried and set, much to her chagrin.

"When I took this position," her voice loud and flat. "One of the deciding factors had been the budget dangled before me. Which has been true. I'll give you that. However," the blonde stood, her lab coat swishing around her as she spun on the other figure in the room. "When the time has come to put any findings to the test, I'm presented with more and more obstacles. What is the point in you funding my research if nothing is going to come of it?" She finished haughtily. She clenched her fists tight enough that she couldn't be surprised if she found decent shaped cuts on her palms after this 'conversation'.

"Doctor Ziegler, I understand we are not moving as fast as you would like." Strike Commander Morrison acquiesced in a placating manner as he leaned a hip against the countertop by the cages of nano containing mice. "We have stricter protocols than you had to deal with, no doubt, working in the university or hospital labs. They make a mistake, it's not good, but their intentions are believed to be generally for the greater good." The poster boy American rubbed at the five o' clock shadow dusting his jawline. "But if something were to go wrong at one of our labs there are many who would not trust our intentions. The press would be all over us." He explained. "Besides, you're wanting to attempt to augment and replace sections of the spine. The are so many ways that could go wrong. The press would have a field day with that, I have no doubt."

Angela's brow seemed to arch of its own accord. "The press?" She questioned, nonplussed. "Pardon me, Commander, but the press is your main concern here? Not the leap in medical research we are on the cusp on?"

"Much of our pull in the world is granted by being on the good side of public opinion." He agreed, blue eyes narrowing. "If that means extra caution, even unwarranted caution, so be it. Once we have gone through the proper protocols to prevent any and all snafus, you will be granted volunteers. Then, and only then, will you be granted subjects to continue your testing. Are we clear?"

With pursed lips the Swiss doctor nodded, her feelings on the subject clear. "Yes, Sir." Commander Morrison nodded at her, albeit terse, assent.

"Very good. Keep up the good work, Doctor. I'll keep you informed of any progress." He said on his way out of her office. The door slid open. The Commander's shoulders tensing the only indication that anything was amiss.

"Thank you, Commander." Angela gritted out. Not a minute after the organization's leader had exited her med bay the doors once again did open. The figure that entered was one that was familiar, yet not. She'd seen the tall, thin woman with the short red hair featured in an article in one of the medical journals she followed. Moira O'Deorain, if she recalled correctly. The woman's gaze had her frozen in her seat, like a rabbit afraid to move for fear of triggering the snake before it to strike her down.

The strange woman smirked, oozing arrogance narrowing her one blue eye and one eye that was... slightly less blue? In the picture she'd seen of the woman, her eyes had both been the same striking shade of blue. What was going on there? The woman's all black outfit added to Angela's sense that this woman wasn't one you'd want to trifle with. "You're nothing but a chiseler, aren't you, now? I'd heard you were young, but I didn't think you were of an age that I'd be expecting you to bunk off days in your last last year of secondary school."

Angela bristled, not grasping the entirety of the geneticist's sentiment, but understanding enough to be offended. Rather than speak her mind the doctor kept her mouth shut, lips curling downward in a frown. 

Rather than becoming upset with the reaction, the Irish woman seemed pleased, the crow's feet ay the corners of her eyes crinkling ever so slightly. "I'm only codding ya. Believe it or not, that was a compliment."

"I'm sure." The young Swiss woman replied, her tone flat and unconvinced, eliciting a laugh from the tall woman. She hadn't seemed that tall in the picture in the article.

"Fair play! I like you." Moira pointed a deadly sharp, manicured nail in her direction. "So, how's she cuttin'?"

Angela blinked, utterly bewildered. "What...?"

"Ol' Jack given you the runaround, eh?" The red head cocked a brow at her. 

"Um, you could say that, yes?" Angela nodded.

"Walls got ears." The tall woman replied, simply before breezing ahead. "You know, if you are wanting to be testing, and you have the utmost confidence in your creation," Moira motioned at Angela's form in a single sweeping motion, "you already have a subject primed and ready for testing."

"Are... are you suggesting what I think you are...?"

"Now, I'm not saying you should go round throwing shapes." Moira seemed to clarify, though the turn of phrase was unfamiliar to Angela. "I'm merely pointing out that you have all the resources you need."

Angela stood from her desk chair, uncomfortable with the feeling of being towered over. "Isn't that a little unethical?"

"How so?" The other woman countered. "You'd have your own consent, would you not? What is more ethical than putting yourself on the line before others? 'Do no harm.' What if your creation were to damage someone?"

Angela floundered for a rebuttal. "But, what about the Strike Commander?"

"Aye, the pretty boy who cares more about appearances than the greater good?" Angela had no response to that. "Now, I'm not telling you what to do, merely pointing out some of the resources you have on hand." Moira said edith a sharp, toothy grin. "And, who knows, if you do well enough, who knows... We might find even more use for you."

"We?" Angela questioned, an uneasy feeling settling into her stomach. Smirk still in place, the tall woman with questionable morals strode to leave. "And, wait, why are you even here? How do you have the clearance to be here?"

"Just think about it." Was all she said as the doors slid open, and she left as abruptly as she had entered, door sliding closed behind her. 

Angela sat back down at her desk, head hung in her hands. "Seriously, what just happened and what is it with people just leaving rooms and telling me to think about things?" She mused aloud.

________________________

 

"Keep your guard up, Habibi." Ana instructed, hands up before her in a defensive stance. "I won't be pulling my next attacks, so you need to pay attention."

"Yes, Mama." Fareeha responded tersely, posture mimicking that of the Captain, eyes solemnly focused on every twitch of her mother's limbs.

When her mother attempted to feint with an attack from the right, only to follow through with a left-handed strike, Fareeha was prepared for it. She blocked with her forearm, sending her mother's strike wide with her own momentum, opening her up for a counterattack. 

Or so she'd hoped. The Captain was quick to recover, twisting and blocking her punch, her white gi rustling, the thuds of impacts, and the heaving breaths of mother and daughter, and the sticky sound of sweaty feet on the padded flooring filled the training room. Both combatants returned to defensive stances. Fareeha could feel the undershirt beneath her own white karate uniform sticking to her form in uncomfortable ways.

"You've come far, young grasshopper. But not far enough." Ana taunted her daughter. 

The young Egyptian shouldn't have fallen for it. Should not have allowed her pride to make her brash. Alas, that is a lesson to be learned in another decade of her life. Right here, right now, it works like a charm. She lunges forward recklessly, her mother easily shifting it off the way, like a leaf on the wind. 

What Fareeha and her mother had not counted on was for her momentum to continue her forward and for her to lose her footing. Neither saw her fist colliding with the wood paneled wall of the dojo-like room coming, either. The young Amari seemed to see in slow motion how her knuckles impacted the hard surface before her hand and wrist seemed to hit the wall in tandem. For a long moment she stood there. Then the pain hit and she forgot how to English. Turning, she thumped into the ground, back against the offending wall. 

_"Ooooow! Mama, I think I did something to my wrist!"_ She managed shakily in her native tongue. With deft hands Ana gingerly lifted her forearm and wrist with the tips of her fingers. She carefully tested get daughter's swelling wrist's range of motion, immediately eliciting a whimper of pain. 

_"Yup, looks like either a sprain or a break. Here, I'll help you up." She replied in kind as she knelt down, arm wrapped behind her daughter's shoulders and helped pull the girl to her feet. _Let's get you to the Med Bay.__

__"Do you know, um, which doctor is on duty?"_ Fareeha hugged her injured hand to her chest, the flush still in place from the exercise hiding her blush._

_Ana, who would have teased her under normal circumstances, merely quirked her lips in a suppressed smirk. _I hope so, habibi. Out of all of the doctors that could diagnose you here, I trust her to care for you the most."__

_The two traveled down the hallways in relative silence after that, passing very few people. Fareeha glanced at a wall clock hung in one of the hallways they passed through. _Huh._ She thought. _We trained for longer than I thought. I didn't realize it had gotten this late...__

_Just as the two are finding the corner to the Med Bay hallway Ana grabbed her daughter by the shoulders, yanking her back behind the cover of the corner. Ana stealthily peaked around the bend, with Fareeha following suite._

__"What is_ she _doing here?"_ Ana whispered to herself as the doors to the Med Bay slid closed behind tall, lanky woman with a fiery shock of red hair and a predatory grin upon her face. Shoving her hands in the pockets of her flowing white lab coat, started to turn their way, just as Ana pulled Fareeha back out of sight. Ana leaned close to her daughter. _Act natural, Fareeha. Remember, we're going to see the doctor about your hand, alright?__

_The young Amari nodded, confused and distracted by the pain pulsing up her arm as her mother turned them back around, her hand on the small of her back guiding her. As they continued forward the tall figure rounded the corner coming within a hair's breadth of colliding with the two Egyptians._

_"Pardon me." The woman said with a thick brogue, without a hint of remorse, red eyebrow raised, the grin from earlier nowhere in sight. "Ah, greetings Captain Amari." She glanced down at Fareeha disdainfully, gaze flicking to her cradled arm. "And... offspring. What brings you two to the medical wing?"_

_"I could ask the same of you." Her mother replied, brow arched and eyes challenging._

_"Just taking a quick gander at the good doctor." Her thin lips turned up in a smirk. "Eh, the lass has potential, I'll give her that. Though seems like a bit of a Holy Joe."_

_Slightly confused by some of the turns of phrase the woman before her spouted off, Fareeha glared at the woman speaking so flippantly of Angela. She opened her mouth to interject, but her mother beat her to it. "I don't think I need to remind you of the fragility of your presence here, Doctor."_

_The redhead's eyes narrowed. "Indeed not. Though need _I_ remind _you_ that _I_ don't answer to _you_. _I_ don't even "work" here." Her cold, slightly mismatched eyes returned her mother's challenge as she air quoted._

_"Good thing for you that you don't." Ana shot back, earning a smirk from the other woman._

_"Indeed not. Well, if that will be all, I must crack on. Lots to do."_

_"I'm sure." The Captain responded in a monotone, her hand protectively settling on Fareeha's shoulder as the other woman strode past them._

__"Bitch."_ Ana muttered under her breath in Egyptian Arabic when the other was out of earshot, eliciting a grasp from the younger of the two. _

_"Mama!" She whispered in a scandalized voice._

_"Sorry, habibi, I shouldn't have said that out loud." Her mother looked mildly apologetic. "Let's get your wrist looked at, now, alright?"_

_Fareeha nodded, teeth gritting together to suppress her reaction to the throbbing pain. Ana led her to the Med Bay doors. When they slid open the first thing she noticed was Angela with her elbows on her desk, head in her hands. Though, at the sound of the doors she would have sworn she heard the doctor mutter, "what now?" to herself, but she couldn't be quite sure._

_After a moment the doctor glanced up, taking in the scene before her. "Oh, my. What happened?" She asked, standing up and striding around her desk, grabbing from it an odd sort of metal headband that she donned. The object only touched her at her temples, the rest of its length left a gap of a hands breadth between it and her forehead. "You seem to be injured, Ree, what happened, lady? Could I get you to sit up here on the examination table please?" She asked as she approached said piece of furniture, patting the paper covered top._

_Obliging the doctor's request, Fareeha used the little step stool beside the table to seat herself with the utmost care for her injured appendage, Angela assisting her as needed. Angela reached up to where the metal band met her right temple before she began the examination, pressing her finger tips into different areas of the swollen limb, asking what areas hurt, testing her range of motion. "What happened here, Ree? It looks like you punched a wall!"_

_Fareeha's cheeks were already burning at the presence and the doctor's gentle touch as she examined her injury. She hadn't thought she could get anymore red in the face, but, well, here she was! "Uh, yeah. The wall won..."_

_The snort that the doctor elicited was by far the most unladylike sound the young Egyptian had heard the blonde make to date, and she could help but laugh along with her._

_"We were training." Ana clarified, smiling fondly. "She's improving, though she does need to work on her impulse control." She said, earning a grumble from the injured girl._

_"I guess that explains both of you wearing your training gear." She hummed a bit to herself, composing herself once more. "I can tell you that you have a metacarpal fracture. You have two shaft fractures." Fareeha giggled at the word 'shaft', Angela huffing a light laugh as she suppressed a grin. "What this means is that two of your finger bones are broken in the palm area of your hand." She explained. "I'll need to align and set the bones so that they can heal properly. I'll apply local anesthesia beforehand. Once that is done I will prescribe a hand splint. And, if your mother and you agree to it," the doctor glanced up at the Captain, "a small dose of nanites to help with the healing process." At this Ana nodded her assent as she leaned up against the counter on the other side of the room._

_"Nanites?" The girl questioned, glancing between the two women. "Will it hurt?"_

_Angela thought about that for a moment as she walked to the counter over by Ana, retrieving the needed supplies. "Hmm, not any more pain than you would be experiencing already, with the added bonus of the healing time being cut down dramatically."_

_"Alright then." She nodded, a look of pure determination on her face. "Let's do this."_

_When Angela turned around, needle in hand Fareeha blanched. "Indeed, let's." Ana smirked at her daughter's loss of zeal._

_It wasn't as bad as she was expecting. Angela told her she would just feel a pinch from the needle and nothing else, and she was right. She didn't feel her bones being set and she didn't feel the second needle administering the dose of nanites._

_Hand splinted, Fareeha held it up, appraising it. "Huh. How long do I have to wear this?"_

_"About a week, maybe less." The doctor answered as she cleaned up and put equipment away and into sterilization containers. "The normal recovery time for this type of injury is about the weeks, but with the nanites the timetable is moved up dramatically. I only say a week for the sake of caution."_

_"Cool." Fareeha grinned. "Thanks, Doc!" She found herself blushing again at the fond smile the doctor gave her._

_"You are very welcome, Fareeha. Though, might I suggest you dial down your aggression towards walls in the future? You never know when they might fight back."_

_"Pfft." She scoffed, puffing her chest as she posed, putting up her dukes. "No wall will ever get the best of me ever again."_

_"So," Ana spoke up from the other side of the room, gaining the attention of the two younger females. "We ran into a certain geneticist on the way here. Mentioned she introduced herself to you." Her mother's eyes narrowed. "You also seemed to be fairly distressed when we came in." She pointed out._

_The long inhale of Angela's sigh had the young Amari turning back to her. "That woman is a confusing hurricane of idioms."_

_Ana scoffed. "You're not wrong there." She muttered aloud. "She didn't give you any trouble, did she?"_

_Angela seemed to squirm in place, lips pursing in displeasure. "I don't know. I couldn't tell if she was being offensive or if that's just how she is."_

_"Probably a little bit of both." Ana conceded._

_Fareeha reached out, poking Angela's forearm. "You ok, though?"_

_Angela smiled gratefully, nodding. "I am, just a lot to think about." She replied. "Though, looking at the time, I think I should be heading to bed, soon. One of the other doctors should be here to cover the night shift. And I should finish cleaning up before they get here."_

_"Okay." Fareeha jumped off the table, giving Angela as close to a bone- crushing hug as she could manage, earning an 'oof' and a laugh from the doctor before letting her go and joining her mother by the door._

_"If she gives you any trouble," Ana told the doctor, with solemn eyes, "you let me know."_

_"Does she even work here?" Angela asked, crossing her arms._

_Ana's lips twisted in distaste. "She doesn't work for me." She simply said, before heading towards the door. "Thank you for your help, Doctor. Have a good night."_

_"Have a good night, Angie! Thank you!" Fareeha waved her broken hand as they left the Med Bay._

__________________

_Angela waved back, smiling dropping from her face as the doors slid shut behind the two that were as close to family as she had. The two she, apparently, didn't feel she could confess her thoughts and frustrations to._

_Moira's words had struck a chord in her, and the more she thought on them the more sense they made. They resonated with the Hippocratic Oath she swore to uphold than she could have liked. To put herself in harm's way to ensure the safety of one of her creations... If she could prevent harm to somebody else by taking that potential harm herself... That seemed right. The guilt she knew she would feel if somebody were to become debilitated by her brain-child eird be devastating._

_Nodding to herself, she steeled herself for what she was about to do._

_After she finished cleaning up after Fareeha's procedure she began gathering up the vials and injectors, whatever would fit comfortably in her purse. Once she had gathered up all of the essential components for her own procedure, she sat back at her desk, acting as natural as she could manage._

_The overnight doctor finally arrived, yawning as they he entered. Angela bid him goodnight, and she was off. Walking down the hallways of the base she tucked some loose hair behind her ear, resisting the urge to look behind her._

_When she arrived back at the residential area she entered her own suite, motion sensor lights flickering to life, she double and triple checked that her door was locked. She strode over to the desk in her bedroom, a few large medical tomes piled to the side with Ritter the Strong sitting atop the stack._

_"Watch over me, ok?" She smiled nervously at the inanimate rock before booting up her computer and opening up the application she had written for communicating with her nanites._

_While building up her courage, the young doctor went about getting ready for bed. Brushed her hair with more care than she normally would have, put extra thought into what sleeping shorts she would be wearing, and thoroughly brushed her teeth before she deemed herself ready._

_With a deep steadying breath she carefully retrieved and emptied her purse, laying item after item in a grid like pattern across her desk. Several vials and a single injector lay before her. She reached forward, proud that her hands maintained her surgeon level of calm even while she quaked on the inside._

_Setting up the first vial of nanites with their resources in the injector, she twisted it this way, and that, checking the needle, the trigger, anything that could malfunction. The next step was to disinfect the area of every. The chill alcohol swab she ran in a tight circle around her upper thigh caused a shiver to run up her spine._

_Satisfied, Angela took up the injector and a deep, steadying breath before ever so carefully inserting the needle of the injector into the flesh of her thigh. Pulling the trigger, she could feel the cold of her saline suspended, dormant creations seeping into her blood system. With utmost care she removed the needle, ignoring the stinging sensation as best she could._

_The process was repeated another five times. Five more vials' worth of her work now floating in her veins alongside her red and white blood cells. With slightly trembling hands, her surgical precision failing her in tired, adrenaline fueled state, she entered the command initiating the start up phase._

_Preparing for a long night ahead of her, the young Swiss doctor crawled into bed, laying on her stomach, and hugging her pillow to get chest, hoping that she was doing the right thing for the right reasons._


	5. The Pursuit of Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela faces an unexpected result of her project. 
> 
> Fareeha runs into a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is shorter than the other chapters 
> 
> Also, has notbeen read through or edited. Stressful day means I throw this at the internet and run the other way. 
> 
> I just hope this doesn't suck! *throws and runs*

If Angela had thought that she would be able to sleep her way through her little self experiment she was sorely mistaken. She huffed a pained laugh to herself at the turn of phrase. _I bet Fareeha would have appreciated the pun._ She thought to herself, teeth gritted, sweaty hands clenching her bedsheets in tight fists. Regret and fear flashed through her mind, chest tight with anxiety, but there was no turning back now. Not without serious consequences. 

The nanites had already begun the excavation of the bone marrow from her cervical and thoracic vertebrae. Half of her spine, from her neck to her lower back burned from within. She felt the initial drilling of the tiny machines into each section of her spine. She felt them now as they replaced the marrow within each with tech, distributing the displaced organic material to other bones throughout her petite frame. She could feel foreign metal being fused with her organic structure as her creations fortified the area of her skeleton they had just emptied, girding within and without. 

The outer augmentation of her spine extended from the base of her skull all the way down to lumbar region in her lower back and down to her hips. Greatly reducing any chances of back injury, such as slipped discs or damage to her spinal cord. Each vertebra now had an armor coating, of sorts, and were linked with the vertebrae around it. 

She felt violent tingles shooting across her entire form as connections were made, as the nanites interfaced and bonded with her nervous system. The tingles fading slowly as the links were put into sleep mode. Not needed, yet, but there.

She had reduced her body's ability to create red and white blood cells with this, sure, but if it all worked she would gain so much more in return for her sacrifice.

Oh, dear God, she hoped this worked. 

 

Time had no meaning. When the procedure had run its course the sun had risen and she had been none the wiser; exhausted and sweat soaked as she was. Fatigued beyond measure, she stumbled to where she'd dropped her lab coat and, with fumbling fingers found her phone/ communication device, did something she never did.

She called out sick. 

Once her subordinates had been made aware that she was unwell and indisposed for the duration of the day she decided to get cleaned up. She made her way to her washroom, shucked sweat drenched clothing from her shivering form, and hopped into the shower before it had even had a chance to warm up. The chill of the water was a shock to the system that managed to help her stay alert enough to clean herself up as the temperature evened out.

Once she was free of the sticky coat of sweat she was reluctant to leave it. For several minutes she stood under the spray, forehead pressed to the cool, but steadily warming wall. She contemplated her actions. If nothing worked as well as she hoped that was good, but who could she tell? The was no real _need_ to tell anyone, but her own peace of mind was assured for when she got clearance for human testing. If things went wrong, well...

Lathering her usually rosemary & mint shampoo into her hair she worked that in, rinsed, then repeated the process with matching conditioner, cleansing her blonde tresses of self inflicted procedure. She lightly scratched at her scalp as she massaged the last of the last of the conditioner from the strands, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.

With a heavy sigh the young doctor lightly tapped her forehead against the wall of the shower, hands going limp at her sides. 

If things either went wrong, or not according to plan, then she could revise the project. Could even drop it entirely and change her focus. But the would not ve a way to completely reverse the changes made to her own body. 

But if this worked, those with injuries of the spine, loss of limb use, or even loss of limbs, would have a chance at natural use of all appendages, again.

"Okay. Well. Can't stay in here forever." Angela reluctantly shut off the water, slid the glass door open, and stepped out into the cooler air of the open bathroom. Grabbing her plush towel she began the process of drying out her shaky limbs. Once satisfied she tied her wet mop of hair up in the towel and approached the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom closet door. 

She was paler than usual, which was really saying something. Biting her upper lip nervously she slowly turned her body in place, keeping her eyes on the mirror. As her back came into view relief washed through her. There were no visible signs of her tampering. Her back was as pristine as ever, her three moles remaining the only visual juxtaposition across her pale back.

Satisfied with her work, for the time being, the young Swiss woman strode out, bare, into the cold of her suite in search of clothes, then sleep.

She felt like she could sleep for days. 

______________________

Fareeha gnawed on the end of her stylus as she contemplated the device displaying her current classwork before her, the clicking of the plastic against her teeth drowned out by the sound of Toto's Africa reverberating through the empty apartment. The lyrics reminding her of a certain crush that she would vehemently deny, despite the mere thought warming her cheeks. She didn't need Jesse, or Gabriel, or, gods protect her, her mother, teasing her. 

She didn't even want to think about what would happen should the doctor catch wind...

None of them were here, though, including her mother. 

Had said mother been there, however, this wonderful cacophony filling her home would not have been possible. Alas, the Captain was out on a mission for an indeterminate length, so the young Amari took full advantage.

She could only maintain the smug euphoria of freedom for so long as one downside of not having the elder Amari present was that she would have to go elsewhere when in need of help with her schoolwork. She could leave the instructor, but her pride wouldn't allow for that. At least when her mother helped her she more led her in the right direction, preferring that over giving her the answers outright. A fact that Fareeha appreciated.

Pausing the music with a tapof the screen, she stretched her stiff limbs as she stood. Without her mother around she decided to go with her backup, but certainly her favorite, homework helper. Shoes on, and homework pad tucked safely under her arm, she locked up the apartment behind her and she meandered over to the Med Bay.

"Angela!" She sang-yelled as the doors slid open for her, eyes scanning for the blonde. One of the scrubs-clad doctors broke off from a conversation with another couple of medical workers and approached her as a brisk pace. 

"May I help you, Ms. Amari?" The soft spoken gentleman inquired, his accent coming across as faintly Italian. 

"Uh, yeah, is Ang- uh, Doctor Ziegler around?" She asked, her brows creasing together with concern as the doctor shook his head, his perfect coif of brown hair not budging the slightest with his movements.

"I'm afraid not. You see, Doctor Ziegler called out sick this morning. Oh, I know, we're shocked, too!" He said, reacting to the shocked and worried expression she couldn't keep from her face. "She called and said she was just not feeling well, and that she was not to be disturbed for anything less than a dire emergency, but that she would let us know if she needed anything."

"Uh, ok. Um." Fareeha fidgeted in place, unsure of what to do next. 

"Anything any of us can help you with? Are you not feeling well, either?" He asked, in full doctor mode.

"Uh, no, it's not important, just homework." She told him, holding her empty hand up as if to ward off any more questions. "I'll just, uh, I'll just go. Keep up the, um, good work guys!" She raised her voice at the last bit, the men and women in the room waving her goodbye as she fled the room, and the Medical Wing entirely. 

Her directionless meandering that followed her retreat eventually led her to the mess hall. Sitting by herself at the same table Fareeha had shared hot cocoa with Angela months ago was a tall, lithe, regal brunette figure that she had not seen in quite some time. 

"Hey, Amélie!" She greeted the woman. "Gérard finally got you to take a break from touring with the ballet to come visit?"

The French woman's warm gaze flicked up from the meal she had been picking at. "Bonjour, mon petit Amari." She smiled, setting her fork down daintily. "Oui, some... thing has come up and I'll be taking a break from shows for a little while."

Fareeha cocked her head to the side like a confused puppy. "You alright?"

"Oui, yes," the ballerina shook her head brusquely, quick to reassure her. "Nothing is wrong, nothing to worry about. Just not much of an appetite. How have you been, though?" She deflected. 

Fareeha nodded. "Good, good. Was just about to work on some homework, but the person I was hoping could help me isn't feeling well."

"Oh? I hope they feel better soon." Gérard's wife sympathized. "Might I ask who it is that is under the weather, so to speak? We could bring them some comfort food. Or... I believe I saw poultry soup on the menu. I have heard that is a food to eat when one is unwell?"

Fareeha shrugged, putting her tablet down and resting her elbows on the table. "She'd probably like chocolatey, or something." She supplied, scratching at the baby hairs at the nape of just neck. "I was hoping Angela, the new lead doctor."

"Ah, I've heard of her. That is a shame. I was hoping to head over and meet with her at some point today." The corners of Amélie's twitching down in a slight frown. "Ah, c'est la vie, that will just have to wait. What did you need help with? I might be of assistance." She dismissed her disgruntled air as if it never was.

Grinning, Fareeha retrieved and woke up get device. "Sure! That would be awesome! Thanks!"

"De rien mon cher." She responded, ruffling the young Egyptian's hair fondly. "It is no problem. Now what is this homework you have been assigned?"

_________________________

 

When Angela once again regained consciousness she was not alone.

Standing over her prone form was the Irish woman from before, Angela's vitals scanner perched on her temples. The woman's uncalled for presence and flippant use of her equipment had her upright in bed in a flash. "Was zur Hölle?!" She exclaimed furiously. "What the hell are you doing in my home?!"

The geneticist merely quirked a brow at her, completely nonplussed. "Not until I'm done scanning you."

"Get out now or I'll-" Moira cut her off. 

"Or you'll what? Report me?" The older woman scoffed, grinning, as she removed the scanning device from her crown, setting it in Angela's bedside table. "Then I'll just have to report you." When Angela swallowed nervously on reflex Moira's smile turned savage. "That's the ticket."

Angela surged to her feet. "Du miststück, you're blackmailing me?!" She roared as close to the taller woman's face as she could reach." Earning distasteful twist of the other woman's lips, as though she had just consumed something foul.

"How crass." Moira bemoaned. "I prefer the word extortion, or even," before Angela realized the woman was even swinging at her, the redhead's fist collided with the blonde's diaphragm, forcing all air from the younger woman's lungs in an instant and leaving her unable to draw breathe. "Strongarming. I like that word." She remarked offhandedly as she stood dispassionately over Angela's now kneeling form.

Angela's lungs refused to work, as though somebody had hit the off switch, she couldn't get them to respond no matter how hard she tried. She could feel get face turning red as her gut burned from the impact. Unable to speak, she resorted to mouthing the words without the aid of sound. _What do you want from me?"_

"Ah, very good question, my dear." She said condescendingly as she pat the debilitated young woman before her on the head. "I simply want to have access to your research results, that's all." Grabbing Angela by the chin with her sharp nails, she glared into the Swiss woman's eyes with a haughty sort of arrogance and authority. "Not that you have much choice if you want to keep working for the 'good guys' and keep 'helping the world'" She airquoted mockingly. "You'll help the world, alright. You'll bring more knowledge to light. I just want a first look at that knowledge. Understand?"

Angela just stared, face turning increasingly red. But Moira seemed to see what she was looking for, because she released her grip on Angela's face, leaving behind several scrapes from her nails. Before retracting her hand she pat Angela's cheek. "Good girl."

Angela struggled to her feet at that, instantly regretting it as she became lightheaded. A shove from the intruder had her falling over onto her mattress.

"You'll be fine." The ginger dismissed coldly. "Your new nanite army will make sure of that. Well, sláinte, Doctor Ziegler. Have a good rest of your night. We'll be seeing each other again soon."

As Angela's vision faded, she could just barely make out Moira's back in the darkness of her room as she sauntered out of her home as though she owned the place. 

It took about a minute longer before she was able to work her lungs up to a full breathe, laying on her side on her bed as she practically vibrated from the adrenaline of the encounter. 

"Ich bin so ein Dummkopf." She muttered, pulling her pillow over her head as though to shelter her from the world as scorching tears made tracks across her cheeks. "Why am I such an idiot? I hate myself. What if the world would have been better off if somebody else had survived?" She muttered into her pillow, her chest tightening painfully as she felt herself overcome with a wave of anxiety.

There was nothing she could do. If she said nothing, who knew where the discredited geneticist's demands would end? But if she spoke up and told Ana or Jack...? She could be stuck off the register, lose her medical license. Lose this job. Lose any chance of ever working in the field she'd worked so hard for, ever again. 

No. At least, for now, silence was her best bet. Dear, God, she hoped she wasn't making the biggest mistake of her life.

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, yeah.  
> Hope you like it so far.  
> I have about 14-ish more chapters mostly outlined. I plan on this being a story that switches between Angela and Fareeha as the focus, starting from childhood up to the current timeline. Next chapter I plan on being focused on Fareeha.  
>   
> Please be gentle. >_<


End file.
